


Smile, while you're winning

by Bentoni



Category: Mutant Chronicles (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Dieselpunk, Gen, Police
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-22
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-07-16 17:09:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7276627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bentoni/pseuds/Bentoni
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally written by my friend, this text was re-worked to fit the ongoing story.</p><p>Poor Rylers thinks he'll be getting a chance to get back at the members of the now dispanded MCU. How's that going for him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smile, while you're winning

Times were tough when Gotland was hit by the riots. Real tough. And then disaster struck again; only this time it wasn’t riots caused by disgruntled serfs who’d had enough of their overlords pushing them too far and wanted some freedom of their own. This time the cause was a huge fucking monstrosity of a mess-up from within the Luna P.D. 

The great entrepreneurs and businessmen of the Frazetti family ended up being publicly harassed by the police, certain members going so far as to assault individual employees of the Frazetti brothers. 

What initially was only a single homicide investigation ended up pitting no less than three of the big five Megacorps against each other, with the Cartel trying to intervene. 

The veritable shit hit the fan and things went decisively sideways, and in the epicenter of this roaring maelstrom was Seymour-Thomas fan fucking Upper and his shit-filled plane crash of a crew called ‘MCU’!

Captain Rylers slowly browsed the fat dossier laid in front of him, jaw working in anger. Some heavy name from brass and file had left it on his desk. Titled ‘Gotland-MCU’ and with a sharp stamp-mark reading ‘Classified’ on the brown cover, the more aptly name would have been ‘Warning: Complete fucking disaster, read with caution!’.

Rylers brain could barely process what he was reading with his own eyes. That fucking dilettante fan Upper and his so-called ‘team’ had it coming.  
Being an old-school ‘tough-guy-get-the-job-done-right’ kind of cop, Rylers couldn’t stand people who tried to use his beloved Luna P.D. as their personal strike force, to try and pry some influence they really didn’t deserve from decent, ordinary people. 

He’d been on the force for a while now, and he still loved putting the street punks to the boot. Rylers had gotten hard earned promotion through the sweat of his brow, working his way upward in the rigid power structure of The Force. 

He’d been assigned as head of the newly created Riot Control Group that was going to oversee the situation in Gotland, but that had gone to shit thanks to fan Upper and his antics. Fan Upper and his fucking nine lives!

Apparently he’d been an Airborne ranger back in the day, serving in Venus jungle during the ‘Mish-Cong incident’. How he managed to get out of that deathtrap was incomprehensible. Then he carried out one of the biggest corporate scandals over on Mars, but not only managed to get away unscathed, but landed a promotion that was rightfully Rylers’! 

Following his imprisonment by the bauhausian Ministry of Fear and his subsequent trial, fan Upper, the epitome of sin, managed to look the part of martyr. Last known entry; a promotion and transfer to the Cartel. Full stop.

What. The. Fuck.

And the team! The fucking MCU! A disparate selection of misanthropes, wash-outs and general homicidal maniacs forming the very bottom of what the Megacorps could muster. Add then a full police precinct as playground and watch miscarriage of justice have its run!

Following the Titanenburg disaster the team was luckily dissolved, it’s members scattered for the wind, but their corporate protection made legal pursuits near impossible, and they were let of the hook. Not that Rylers didn’t try, but it all just ended up in dead ends, as usual.

Amadovich had made a formal request to be transferred from Luna P.D. to the Badlands Rangers. His request was granted so fast that Rylers didn’t even have a chance to question him. He was now buried under dust, sand and shit in the smallest fucking community known to Luna, and considering how prone to violence the badlanders were, Rylers had thought the fuckers’ chance of survival would be swiveling down into the per milles within days. 

Then there was van der Bruhl. ‘Military liason’ could just as easily have spelled ‘Diplomatic immunity’. He’d been shipped off-world just days after fan Upper had been put to trial. He probably went to his family’s estate on Venus. No chance of getting him extradited from there. Rumor had it though that van der Bruhl had been formally stripped of all rank and fired from the bauhausian Dragoons. Some comfort there, at least.

One time, Rylers actually thought he’d gotten close to one member of the MCU, but that lead turned up dead, as James Garfield’s name appeared on the list of people identified as having died on Titanenburg two years ago. 

And now, as acting chief of Gotland, Ryler’s luck had finally turned. Safely in lock-up was none other than Joo-Sae Mizu-Nagare, the mishiman gangster the precinct had gotten shoved down their thoat a few years back. Gang related war, and she was in the midst of it. Apparently the Black Dragon Society and the Cosa Nostra had found some reason or other to start killing each other the last couple of years. The death toll was up to the hundreds.

Suspicion had always been there, but she’d been slick. Nothing Rylers and his men came up with would stick, and she’d never even gotten hauled in for questioning, but now, finally, they had something solid! And, man, was she fucked…

Rylers sent the station clerk down to get the file on her from the archive, all the while watching Nagare being escorted to interrogation from the end of the hall. She didn’t see him.

Rylers had gotten word that no less than four witnesses had given a detailed account of her involvement in organized crime. Rylers believed at the time that her organization had decided that she was a liability and proceeded to throw her to the wolves. It was not until later that he became aware that he’d been played for a fool in the big game of Megacorps.

But at this moment, Rylers was smiling, a rare sight on his grizzled face, satisfied that he would finally be able to swath that fucking slant-eyed bitch once and for all. Almost too good to be true.

Interrupting his thoughts was the voice of Rylers’ long-time friend Baraccus Henri, Rylers’ second-in-command. 

“Hey, Cap, I was feeling like getting a nice blowjob, you up for it?”

Before realizing the jest, Rylers had time to get his famous temper roused. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean, Baraccus?!”

Henri simply handed over a piece of paper, all the while smiling like some Venusian reptile. The paper was a copy of a payment-slip. Written, in capital letters, in a bright fiery red tone was ‘PAYMENT OVERDUE’.

“What’s this?” Rylers asked, his temper lost to his bewilderment.

“Oh, just an overdue fee for a sports car, previously owned by former police detective Jasper Paddy,” answered Henri.

Rylers could feel the vicious grin return to his face. Paddy had loved that fucking car. This was Rylers way in to squeeze that ‘budding talent’ from San Dorado Vice. Currently living out a less-than-glamorous life as a freelance private eye, Paddy had tried to keep his head low, but now Rylers was on to him. Luna P.D. had been known to, from time to time, act as enforcer for payment claims. If Paddy couldn’t pay up, which with his existing way of providing for himself would prove impossible, then Rylers could slap him with a ‘failure to comply’ indictment and haul him of to Ryker’s for up to six years.

This day had now surpassed his wedding day for ‘best day in my life award’.

“Sir?” the station clerk had a wary tone in his voice.

“What is it?” asked Rylers.

“Sir, the file on MCU… it’s… gone!” said the clerk.

“What? Wait, what?! What the fuck are you telling me?!” yelled Rylers.

The clerk actually held his hands up as to not be beaten.

“I’m sorry, sir, it’s as if it’s vanished! I swear I’ve looked everywhere!”

Meanwhile, down in interrogations a well-dressed man with a full mustache and graying hair entered the room where Joo-Sae was held. Their eyes met. They said nothing, but they both knew how this discussion was going to end; Joo-Sae would do whatever it was her old boss wanted her to do, or she’d suffer the consequences that, most probably, he had created for her.

All the while, poor old Rylers would find, once again, the people of MCU, just beyond his grasp.


End file.
